My name is Hana Murakami. My name was my mother’s idea. Hana meant flower. She would always tell me stories of how she learned to love flowers as a bedtime story. One was when she was in grade school, the teacher gave them an assignment to work on during their summer vacation. It was to pick a flower seed and make it grow. Mom took a Sakurasou. So, she took reaaaally good care of it. Plant it. Water it. And sometimes she would even trim it. After all her hard work she made it grow to be reaaaally pretty! Like how she wants me to grow into a reaaaally pretty girl!

This is my favorite story. But she has other good stories too.

Another one is about how mom met dad. Mom was in college when she met dad. Dad got love at first sight on mom, but mom didn’t know at the time. So then, one day my dad asked mom out on a date to the festival. That was the first time she took notice of dad. So, mom agreed to go, thinking that she’ll humor him. Maybe buy her free food. But dad was broke, he only planned to go with her to see the festival. Nothing else. So, mom expected to get food instead got fun. She discovered how fun it is to be with dad. At the very end of the date, dad gave her a Sumire. That was the moment mom slowly fell in love with dad.

Mom still has thousands of stories like that, and she will tell one story each night. That’s why I came to also love my name.

……. mom…...dad, why are you angry? I want you to make up, but I don’t know how. You get scary when you shout suddenly.

Even the neighbors have been complaining to us.

I would also get looked at by them, it’s scary.

Mom recently looks pale. She’s forcing herself to look happy in front of me and I don’t want that. I want a real happy mom. With a real smile. I’m not that dumb to not notice, she’s in pain, isn’t she? Why isn’t she asking for help?

I want to help her…...but she gets scary.

I see a flower in the distance. I approached it and sat beside it.

It’s a Sumire.

It’s tiny, small, pretty and the petals are smooth too. Like silk.

If my blanket were as smooth as this, I could sleep through the day without any worries. Maybe it would’ve even smell nicer, like this flower.

“Sniff”

I heard footsteps coming toward me.

I wiped my tears away.

“You like that?” a boy asked.

Should I answer? No.

He bends over to take a closer look at the flower, “it’s just a flower.”

He fell silent.

“It just is.” I’m running out of patience.

“Hmm…...is there anything interesting from that flower?”

“I don’t know.”

“That doesn’t explain why you like looking at it though.”

“Come on, do I have to? Besides, I don’t even know you?”

“Eh?! I’m sorry.” he was pouting, “I just thought you were being bullied or something.” he mumbled.

Hmm…am I? I don’t think so.

“See?! I knew it! You were being bullied.”

“I told you, I’m not getting bullied.”

“Then why did you have to think of an answer when I asked you?”

“Cause I’m thinking, duh.” I let out a smirky smile by accident.

“What a lame excuse.”

I sighed, “You are bullying me right now, you know?”

His face was shocked, “Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to. I j-just” he was having a hard time processing his words, “I thought I could help you with something.”

The brightness of his face disappeared. He depressingly looks at the flower. It made me think of what I might’ve looked like when I was lonely looking at this flower. But a few minutes of me ignoring him, he exploded again with brightness.

“Ah!”

I flinched, I thought there was an explosion nearby, “Huh? Why did you sudde―”

“So that’s why you were looking at the flower!”

“What?” I was really surprised that I didn’t understand what he just said.

“So, you were looking at it to make yourself calm? Right?!” He looked like he was in a tv show that has a jackpot of a million and he thinks that he got the question right. But I’m surprised he got the million-prize jackpot.

“Y-you’re correct.”

“Knew it.” he said, “I knew I could read other people too.” he whispered under his breath, but I heard it.

“Well then, now that I understand what you feel, I know what to do.” He stood up and stretched, “I’ll see ya around. We can play together sometime.”

“Sure.” I said pretending I’m not interested.

I really was not interested.

I’m lying, I’m a bit interested.

When he was about to walk away, he introduced himself, “By the way, I’m Hiroshi Takeda.”

“I’m" I didn't want to give my name but, "Murakami...Hana.”

“Nice to meet you, Hana!” he said.

“?! Why’re you using my first name? We’re not even that close!”

He got embarrassed, “S―sorry, I didn’t know.”

I scoffed, “That’s basic knowledge.”

“It was?”

“Obviously,” I sighed, I feel like I’m the grown-up, “for now, call me Murakami. Until I decide that you should call me Hana.”

He became happy again, “Ok, I’ll do just that, Murakami.”

Just for a bit, I saw his eyes lit so brightly.

Like the sun.

“Now that we're friends, I'll introduce you to my other friend!”

"Huh? I thought you didn’t have any friends?"

"Hey!! Kaito!" everyone's eyes were on us.

"Um…can you not shout? Everyone's looking."

“Ah, sorry Murakami.”

He went inside the cafeteria looking for his friend.